


The Genius Plan

by ZoeTheineffable



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angel Wings, Crowley (Good Omens) Is Not Crowley (Supernatural), F/M, Good Omens spoilers, M/M, Ocs playing cupid, Post Good Omens, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeTheineffable/pseuds/ZoeTheineffable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you get two hunters together with their soulmates when they are both Supernatural Beings and in different countries? Especially when one is a commitment-shy Demon and the other's an Angel that's scared of Falling. Its a good thing Emmy's friends with them! Post Good Omens, AU SPN Mid-season 2, Crowley/Dean, Aziraphale/Sam, mentions of OC/Gabriel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Good Omens or Supernatural but I do own my OC.   
> Author Note: I have no clue how Cupids work in the Supernatural world, so I’ve created my own system that I think would fit in the Good Omens world.

**Monday**

 

Emmy was feeling seriously annoyed. This was a very rare occurrence, as she was likely one of the calmest and happiest cupids you would ever meet. In fact, a friend1 had once said, “If Emmy was any more laidback she’d be horizontal.”

Oddly enough, her bad mood had nothing to do with the fact that she was sat in a tree in the middle of night2 when she would much prefer to be in a nice warm bed or at least a house. It also, strangely, had nothing to do with the fact that it was raining, or the fact that when the rain and the night were added together it made the visibility of the evening comparable to that of the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

Her mood was acerbated slightly by a branch above her head that had been placed at exactly the right angle for a continuous drip of water to run under her already soaked coat to have a go at soaking the shirt underneath. But really that was just a momentary annoyance.

No, the real source of her bad mood were the two humans she was peering at through the slanting rain.

Sam and Dean Winchester, the humans in question, were currently digging up the grave of a vindictive bitch of a ghost that was killing everything that took one step into her old house. It had, thankfully, been a pretty simple ‘salt and burn’ kind of hunt and the boys had managed not to need supernatural assistance for once. She had saved both their arses on multiple occasions before this hunt, never appearing directly of course. They wouldn’t take kindly to being followed by anything, let alone something supernatural.

They’d finally reached the coffin after a good few hours of labour and soon the body was aflame and they could all go back to the motel before moving on to the next hunt, be it demon, ghostly or just some weird thing nature cooked up. That was the hunter life.

Following the hunter’s around and joining in on the hunter lifestyle the two men lead, was also not what was annoying her, even though Emmy didn’t particularly enjoy the scratchy motel sheets or the leaky faucets of the crumbly places they were forced to stay in. She kind of enjoyed it actually, spectating the actual hunting was quite fun and much more interesting than what she was used too3.

Emmy hopped down from the tree, making no moves to be quite, knowing that the boys could neither see nor hear her if she didn’t want them too and followed them back to Baby and settled cross-legged in the back seat.

“Watch it, Sam! You’re freaking girl-hair is dripping all over the leather!” Dean complained as he settled behind the wheel.

“It’s hardly my fault it started raining!” Sam, returned glaring at his much shorter older brother.

“Whatever, Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Emmy grinned at the back of their heads, listening to the brotherly insults as the banter continued. She honestly liked the two brothers which made her job much more fun and usually easier.

And that was the problem, they weren’t making her job easier. After all, it’s pretty hard to set two people up if their living in different countries and no matter how many interesting demonic omens and potential cases she made sure they noticed in London, England they never showed a single interest in hopping aboard a plane. It had been aggravating her for weeks and this morning she had found out why they never left the USA.

Dean Winchester, the second most badass person she’d ever met4, was afraid of aeroplanes. Dean Winchester, the man who bitch slaps demons and shanks ghosts, afraid of a little man-made flight. She was pretty sure the statistics for death by ghost was higher than plane crashes. Aziraphale would probably have a statistic for that.

Thinking of Aziraphale made her scowl as a vaguely guilty feeling settled in her gut. Aziraphale and Crowley despite his demonic status, had been her best-friends since the dawn of time and she didn’t enjoy manipulating them, even if it was for their own good. And gaining their soulmates was undoubtedly good for them both. It was a very annoying part of her job that it was frowned upon to just appear to a guy, point out his soulmate and to leave again. No, some finesse was expected, some kind of interesting plan carefully sculpted to yield maximum results.

Meaning she couldn’t just turn up in Crowley’s Bentley and point him towards Dean Winchester and likewise with Sam and Aziraphale. She had to produce a plan, a genius plan that guaranteed results. Most importantly she needed to get them both to Heathrow Airport.

The banter had dribbled to a stop and the soft sound of Sam’s snores could barely be heard over the melodies of Led Zeppelin that slid out of the car CD player. Dean hummed along, tapping his fingers in time to the beat and throwing glances Sam’s way every few minutes. That was one of the reasons she liked Dean Winchester, she thought, as she turned to lie on her back, his intense loyalty to those he loved.

And that was the key, that family loyalty. Emmy knew that Dean would only get on an aeroplane if he needed to and she could only think of one thing that would get him on a flight to England.5

Sam. Dean took the title of ‘protective older brother’ seriously, the guy would literally sell his soul for him. If she took Sam, held him in London, Dean would get right on that plane.

No, she couldn’t look after Sam herself, he’d easily escape or just overpower her. The guy was a freaking mountain, he could probably bench-press her. And she couldn’t watch both Sam and Dean at the same time. And what would happened after, how did Crowley and Aziraphale fit?

She was on to a winner with this idea, she knew it. It had been circling her thoughts all day.

She could leave Sam with Aziraphale, he was an Angel of the Lord after all, and he wouldn’t be overpowered. No, Aziraphale was too kind-hearted to keep somebody prisoner, Sam could probably manipulate the Angel with his puppy dog eyes and persuade him to loosen the rope enough that he could get out. And Aziraphale would never get with someone left under his care like that. His morals were strong, stronger than most other angels.

Crowley, however, would be quite a good prison guard. He was almost impossible to manipulate unless you’d known him long enough to earn his trust6. Plus he had just fluid enough morals that he wouldn’t be above getting with a prisoner.

Shame he was Dean’s soulmate and not Sam’s.

When she realised how stupid she was being, a few minutes later, she face palmed and muttered, “Bloody Hell, Emmy, you are off you’re game. This is what four years of time off does to you.”7  

She had been fixating too much on overcoming Dean’s fear of flight when she had a perfectly non-scared client to fix up too. “Idiot.” She admonished herself again as she formulated a quick plan in her head.

She grinned, it’s a genius plan, she thought before disappearing to England.

* * *

 

Crowley was asleep. As a demon he didn’t really need to rest, but after spending 6000 years on earth, he’d grown accustomed. He enjoyed being able to slip into unconsciousness every now and then and not have to deal with keeping out of the way of the powers that be.

So you can imagine why he felt rather disgruntled when he was roughly shaken by the shoulder and awoken by a familiar voice saying “Wake up, Snakeface.”

He growled out a sleepy “Piss off.” and curled into a tight ball around his pillow. He heard an exasperated sigh, slight movement and then a pillow was forcibly smacked into his face. He let out a sound that he would later protest was most certainly not a squawk and bolted up right, glaring at Emmy’s smirking face.

“Emmy!” He growled out, in a tone which suggested imminent death, “What are you doing?”

“Waking you, moron.” She said, her voice affectionate. “Get up.”

“What time is it?”

“About 6:30am. Now get up, you stubborn demon. I want to meet you and Aziraphale in St James at about,” she paused looking at her watch, “ten o’clock.”

“Why’d you wake me so early then?” he muttered peevishly still slightly angry about the impromptu pillow fight.

“Oh, shut up, it’s not as if you need sleep. Just be there, I’ll buy you both coffee from that café you both love.”

“Fine.” He grumbled, “But this better be important. And I want a bagel too.”

“Fine.”

* * *

 

On the other side of London, Aziraphale was awake. As an angel, he didn’t need to sleep either, but unlike Crowley, he had never quite seen the appeal of lying comatose on a bed thus he’d never bothered. Also, an unnerving rumour had passed around heaven centuries before, saying that when angels slept they sometimes never woke up again and while Aziraphale was almost certain it was nonsense, he was still a little scared to try it.

The back room of his bookshop in Soho was quiet apart from the turning of pages and the slight murmurs of “Fascinating!” Whenever he came across a surprisingly accurate prophesy. The cup of cocoa at his side had mould so advanced it was beginning to develop rudimentary speech and had been completely ignored for about a week.

Aziraphale was so involved in his book in fact, it took him a good few minutes to realise that Emmy had appeared at his table and was sat watching him with her head resting on her hands.

She smiled fondly at him when he finally looked up and said, “Heya, Angel Cakes.”

“Emmy, My Dear, what are you doing back here so soon? I thought your latest job was in America?”

“It is, that’s why I’m here actually. I need your help, Angel Cakes.”

“Oh, well, of course, I’ll do anything, Emmy Dear.” He placed the book gently to the side, noticed the mouldy cup for the first time and banished it to the sink before looking back at his friend. “What can I help you with?”

“Can’t tell you yet, Angel Cakes. I need Crowley too. You free at ten to meet us at St James?”

“For you, Dear, anything.”

 

Footnotes:

  1.     One A.J Crowley
  2.     It was actually about 12:40 which is close to the middle of the night
  3.     What she was used to was usually boring, old office romances where both parties were too scared to ask the other out for fear of rejection. Too boring for words.
  4.     The top spot being held by both Crowley and Aziraphale. After all, anyone who would willingly go to fight Satan armed only with one solitary flaming sword and a tyre iron is very deserving of joint top spot.
  5.     Aside from demons.
  6.     Long enough in this case was 4000 years give or take a few, when she’d met him.
  7.     She had gained the time off, as four years ago when the-apocalypse-that-wasn’t occurred many people in Emmy’s area at the time, including her clients, got over themselves and went after those people they’d been too scared to do so before the world was ending. The day after, her bosses, believing that Emmy had somehow made about fifty couples get together on the same night, gave her a commendation and time off. She spent that time off getting drunk in the backroom of a bookshop in Soho.  




	2. Step 1- Lie to my Bestfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmy starts her plan and gets drunk with the boys.

When Emmy arrived at St James Park, ten minutes before the arranged time, she was unsurprised to find Aziraphale already stood at their usual spot. He was holding a bag of Morrison’s Own wholegrain bread that he was throwing to the ducks while waiting.

It was one of those deceptively warm spring mornings that conned Englishmen into thinking that they’d be in for a similarly warm day before dousing them all in rain around lunch time when they left the office to enjoy their sandwiches. Having had 6000 years’ experience of dealing with English weather, Emmy had anticipated this and was wearing a woollen, black Belstaff coat and was holding a black umbrella with a curved wooden handle in her right hand. Her brown curly hair was cut to just below her collar bone and it flew everywhere in the cool spring breeze. Aziraphale’s blonde curls were moving the smallest amount as was the long fawn coloured winter coat that hid the obnoxious tartan suit that would, no doubt, be underneath.

“Heya, Angel Cakes.” She said in greeting as she reached his side and slipped a hand into the bag to grab a slice.

“Ahh, hello, My Dear.” He grinned at her as she began to rip the bread into duck-sized pieces and throw them out, “How’s America?”

“Well, you and Crowley were right. Can’t get a decent drink anywhere. Other than that though, it’s not too bad.”  

He smiled down at her (he had a considerable height advantage) and said “Ah, well, that’s good. And how’s dear Gabriel?”

“He’s good.” She grinned as her thoughts turned to her long-term Archangel boyfriend1. “Still hiding from Michael and doing Trickster business.”

Aziraphale nodded and they stood in companionable silence for a minute before he asked “So what do you need our help with, my dear? Or would you rather wait for Crowley?”

“I’d rather wait. You know me, Angel Cakes, too lazy to explain something twice. Speaking of Snakeface, I promised him coffee. Want to come?”

* * *

 

During the ten minutes it took the angel and cupid to buy three cups of coffee, Crowley had made his way to the park. He’d gotten bored within ten seconds of arriving and spent the rest of the wait turning the assembled ducks into a quacking, scrambling, warring mess with well-aimed bread crusts onto their backs. He was laughing raucously to himself when he heard a disapproving and familiar voice say “Really, my dear?” just behind his left shoulder.

“I’m just doing my job.” He defended with a smirk as he turned around and saw the angel holding a cardboard carton with three cups of Café Nero coffee in it and Emmy who was watching the ducks with a raised eyebrow. “Spreading discord and violence wherever I go.”

“Yes, but do you have to do it to the ducks?”

“Guys, I didn’t bring you here to argue!” Emmy interjected, giving her friends a disapproving glance each.

Crowley smirked and Aziraphale looked sheepish.2 “You’re right, of course, my dear. So now that Crowley’s finally here, what do you need?”

Crowley glared at Emmy’s hands in which she held only an umbrella and pointed out “You didn’t bring me a bagel!”

“Oh for crying out loud!” She rolled her eyes and held out her hand. A few seconds later a sesame seed bagel with a cream cheese and salmon filling appeared and she handed it to him. “Here, knock yourself out! Now shut up and listen!”

He took the bagel and glared before taking a bite.

“I need your help.” Emmy started.

“With what?” Crowley asked suspiciously, spraying breadcrumbs everywhere.

“My job.” She admitted as he groaned, “After the whole 50 people in one day thing my superiors think I’m some kind of genius matchmaker and have given me really hard jobs. I’m struggling to cope!” She lied.

“No.” Crowley said.

“Crowley…” The Aziraphale said disapprovingly.

“No, Angel, I’m not doing this! Do you know what _They_ ” he pointed at the ground “would do to me if they found out I was helping you spread the gift of love or whatever! I’m in enough trouble as it is!”

“But, Crowley!” Emmy said desperately, “You owe me remember? Both of you!” She had to get his assent, if she didn’t the plan was finished.

He spluttered out “Owe you? I don’t- What? I don’t owe you anything!”

“Yeah you do! The apocalypse 2.0, remember?3”

Crowley deflated like a balloon and glared across the park, he took a savage bite out of the bagel and sighed in defeat. “Fine.” He declared. “But we are not conducting this conversation sober.”

“It’s a little early for drinking isn’t it, my dear?” Aziraphale questioned as they followed a stalking Crowley towards his parked Bentley.

“Well, as Gabe always says,” Emmy grinned, “It’s always the afternoon somewhere.”

* * *

 

The backroom of Aziraphale’s bookshop was filled with the sounds of glasses and giggling4. The angel, demon and cupid had been drinking solidly for about four hours and were absolutely smashed. Crowley had refused to talk about Emmy’s plans until he was good and drunk and had finally decided he was ready. His ever-present shades had fallen under the table and his yellow snake eyes were glazed.

“So, wha’s this plan thingy, you got?” Crowley waved a hand negligently and knocked an empty bottle on to the floor.

Emmy was leaning onto the small section of table that wasn’t covered in bottles with crossed arms, head pillowed on them. She looked up as he spoke and made a sound that might have been a word. “Wha?”

“You know, for your job!”

She stared blankly for a few seconds before it sank through her alcohol-addled brain and she remembered the reason for their drinking. “Oh!” she exclaimed and sat up straight then leant on her left elbow and started to explain, staring at Crowley.

“There’s these two guys, right, Sam an’ Dean. They’re Hunters.”

“Met some hunters once.” Aziraphale muttered, Emmy paused and they looked at the angel. His hair was a complete mess, and he’d stripped down to his dress shirt during the first hour. “Spent their time killing everything for no reason. S’not right…” He mumbled, trailing off and staring towards the back window.

Emmy turned towards him and waggled her finger “Nononono. S’not _that_ kinda hunter. Kind that hunt ‘im.” She pointed at Crowley who blinked in surprise.

“Me?”

“Yeah, demons an’ ghosts an’,” she paused as she tried to remember other things the two men had killed before and decided on “an’ various other supernatural shite.”

“Why’d I wanna get involved in a plan with two guys that wanna kill me?” Crowley tried to glare at the cupid but the effect wasn’t very strong when he was swaying slightly.

“Not kill,” Aziraphale corrected “Inconbeb – incog- oh I give up.” He thumped his head onto the table.

“An’way,” Emmy continued, “they _love_ each other, right, but they’re too scared to go for it, so I figure, if I kidnapped one, right? An’ I give him to you,” she pointed at Crowley, “to hold ‘ostage an’ I direct the other to Az,” she pointed at him “to lead and guide ‘im to his lost love, right? An’ then they’ll be so glad to be alive they’ll kiss an’ stuff.” She finished proudly.

“An’ then they’ll try an’ kill me.” Crowley muttered.

“Nah, we won’t let him.” She gestures at herself and Az, who smiled wobbly in Crowley direction. “So are ya in?”

Crowley squeezed the bridge of his nose and said “I’m gonna live to regret it but alright. I’ll do it.”

“And you, Angel Cakes?”

“As if there was any doubt!” He grinned up at her.

“Great.” She stood up unsteadily and forcibly sobered up. “Well, I better make sure they haven’t gotten themselves killed. We’ll work out the details in a few days, yeah?” They nodded.

Emmy grinned and left for America.  

 

Footnotes:

  1.     They had, in fact, been dating since some point in the 18th century after having met in Italy.
  2.     Pretty much their default expressions
  3.     The Apocalypse 2.0 happened two years into Emmy’s time off. Crowley and Emmy had been gluing pounds coins to the pavement on Oxford Street when Aziraphale had called them in a panic. Apparently, Adam had decided that, after being dumped by his first girlfriend, he didn’t want the world anymore and was starting the Apocalypse again. Emmy somehow managed to talk him down thus saving both the world and Crowley and Aziraphale from a dreadful fate no matter which way the coin fell.
  4.     Emmy was a very giggly drunk




End file.
